


Revission : Poopsy The Killer

by The Laughing Revenant (Pchan2017)



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: First time writing a creepy pasta, sorry for the mistakes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 21:22:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pchan2017/pseuds/The%20Laughing%20Revenant
Summary: This is very much a rough draft.. and I am posting it, cause I honestly do not know if I will revisit this project any time soon. I contacted Poopsy666 about this rewrite before I posted it of course, the original concept goes to Poopsy,this is just a little project for fun. Sorry if the grammar is off, like I stated, rough draft.Also.. very nervous about sharing this story, I normally do not write anything creepy pasta related.. heck I am not sure this can even be called a creepy pasta anymore!





	Revission : Poopsy The Killer

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this buried away in my DA gallery for awhile.  
> http://penchan.deviantart.com/art/Revission-Poopsy-649785223  
> I am unsure if I will ever go back and finish this.

A story, just for fun. Revision of Poopsy the Killer  
Original work by Poopsy666

Sophie could not remember where the origin of the insufferable nick name had come from, but she knew one thing for certain, she despised it. "Spoofy Poopsy' Which, given time, had been reduced to simply 'Poopsy'. Demeaning, was the first thought that would come to mind, as well as silly and cruel. She had tried to leave that annoying nickname behind when her family was relocated half way across the country, due to am unexpected change of vocation. Her father had complained quite often of how he hated the drudgery of his job, and with little notice to her mother nor to Poopsy, the family was uprooted and placed in a nerve wracking disarray.

Trading a handsome income from a boring office job, to scrapping by on a futile artist's dream, it was not long till the family had sunk deep into debt. Her mother blamed her father, and was exceedingly vocal upon the matter. The raised voices often disturbed the girl's slumber, and kept her awake long into the night and occasionally to the early morning hours. Divorce was imminent for the pair, and Poopsy would find herself often caught between her parents, backlash of their anger washed over her like a cold wave. It stole the warmth from her body, chilling her to the bone and seized her breath within her chest. As the stress and worry began to mount, Poopsy would seek means to unleash the tension building within her young mind and body.

Swift swipes of a small blade, a sharpened letter opener she had pocketed from her father's desk, this blade danced across her skin, leaving crimson spiderwebs behind. Marks upon marks she left in her flesh, each dulled the pain of her heart a little less, and with the building morose mood, anger began to rise within her. Unfortunately, strife at home was not the only turmoil she dealt with. Somehow, one of the callous girls at her new school, had stalked Poopsy over her facebook account and various means of social media.. And had discovered the taunting nick name. It was not long at all, till Poopsy had her true name forsaken for one that she loathed so intensely.

"Poopsy, Poopsy, Poopsy had an oopsy! Poopsy was an oopsy!" One of the girls sneered as she teased and tormented Poopsy one blistering late summer day as the school bus made its last stretch down the dirt road which would lead to her home. That particular day had been horrible. The hostility and disgust which ran rampant at the school had reached an all new high. Poopsy had tried to enjoy her last few days of school, before the summer vocation would begin, but found no solace. This was not something unusual in the slightest. Bertha, a behemoth of a girl, had taken a special dislike to Poopsy, and took very opportunity she could, to add more insult to injury whenever she could.

One day earlier, Bertha had cornered Poopsy and the only friend she had managed to make since she had first moved to town, Grub. His real name of course was not Grub, it was after all, Nathan, but due to his love of collecting, charting, and studying the life cycles and various species of bugs, he had been cruelly mocked with that abhorred nickname. The pair had found kinship with each other, and had often attempted to sneak away and hide from the bullies whenever the opportunity had showed itself. That day however, Bertha had caught the pair trying to sneak out of the cafeteria at the lunch period, and had cornered them. She taunted, bullied as usual, and had even dared to grab one of Grub's favored foods, a taco, from his tray and crushed the crunchy shell upon his head, smearing the greasy contents into his hair.

Poopsy was taken back at the brash and monstrous girl who seemed to be permitted to do as she pleased, and how Bertha had just assaulted her friend.. This was just too much. Hatred boiled in her icy blood, raising a flame of rage through her body. It began as a coiled snake in the pit of her stomach, and this snake of wrath swirled through her, causing Poopsy to react without thought. Her tray came up, colliding with Bertha's jaw, sending Luke warm taco meat, waxy cheese, and soggy lettuce and tomatoes spilling up into the bully's face and then down to stain her clothing and scatter in plops and crumbs on the floor. Poopsy was breathless, not that the act had taken much effort, but the rush which had followed had stolen away her breath and left her flushed. Her titillating thrill had been short lived however, as Bertha let out a screech of bewildered anger and brought her fist to connect with Poopsy's right eye.

Pain, pain and the harsh, cold tile floor was what Poopsy first registered once she had grasped a moment to collect her thoughts. Bertha was standing over her, spital flying from her lips as she raged at Poopsy. "Stupid slut! Think youself so tough? You just wait, I will make sure you never do anything so stupid like that again!" Poopsy stared up at her assailant, vexed and anger broiling.. 'Really?' she thought. 'Is that the best you can come up with?' Bertha was soon pulled away from the prone girl on the ground by a few of her friends, warned that the principal was on his way, and the gathering throng of students were soon met with more threats and some of those threats were not so idle. Bertha would ensure that all the blame fell on Poopsy and no one was brave enough to stand up on her behalf.

Poopsy would have to sacrifice several of her beloved summer days, as punishment, and return to the school for detention. The school staff had met with her parents, and deemed that simply sending her home early was not a fitting punishment, but rather she return each day for three weeks, to teach her a lesson about fighting. "I just can not believe that my child has become a bully!" Her mother barked at Poopsy, glaring at her through the mirror as she drove the pair home. Grub had also been punished, but his detention was lighter then Poopsy's, since he had not laid a finger on another student, but apparently had been blamed for egging the fight on. He had been sent home early, and Poopsy had been informed by his outraged mother that she was not welcomed at their home for the rest of the summer.

She sunk down in the back of the sticky leather seats, folded her hands upon her lap, closed her eyes and began to think back on everything that had happened. She had been bullied, attacked, and blamed for everything. The one person who had stood by her, was now kept from her, and it fueled her anger further. However, Poopsy knew better then to anger her mother further, at least until later that evening. She had been sent to her room, and was informed to stay there till morning. Poopsy flopped back on her bed and glared at her ceiling. This was all Bertha's fault. She made a solemn vow to herself, she would get her revenge on her adversary, come hell or high water, she would make Bertha pay for everything she had done.

So of course, it came no surprise, the following day, when the threats came on the agonizingly heated ride home, that Poopsy caught her opportunity. She had managed to conceal her father's letter opener in a tear in the lining of her bag, and had traced her fingers upon the outline of her prized possession all day. As the bus came to a stop, and Poopsy tried to disembark without trouble, she found herself shoved onto the hard ground. The jarring fall knocked the breath from her, and she heard Bertha's sickeningly sweet taunts 'Oh dear, poor thing must have tripped!' She glanced back to see Bertha's sneer, and the bus driver's indifference. Bertha was soon beside Poopsy as she picked herself up off the ground, and once the bus had started to drive away, Poopsy took off like a shot. She did not, however, race home. She fled across a neighbor's lawn, and made way for a line of trees which concealed a small, forgotten nature walk behind it. The trail had once been a place of relaxation and to collect one's thoughts, but due to lack of funding, it was allowed to become over grown and eventually the memory of the walk had been lost from most of the populace's minds.

Poopsy knew of this trail however, she had slipped away here many a time, to hide from her family's arguments or to steal away from bullies who had chased her home. So as she leapt between two large pine trees, scratching her skin upon brittle bark, she knew that her attacker would not be far behind her. She landed among the shaded undergrowth with a thud, and sprinted further down the shadowy lane, her feet kicking up pine straw and dust as she flung herself this way and that to avoid low hanging branches. Bertha, blinded by her need to humiliate and hurt Poopsy, was not so lucky. She was assaulted by sap, prickly straw, thorny vines, and smacked at least two good time by those low hanging branches. Poopsy grinned to herself, why was this so much fun? She knew if Bertha caught her, she would be pummeled at best, she could only imagine what the crazed lunatic would do to her if Poopsy slipped up even once.

But today, Poopsy had the upper hand. She slipped between trees, over dips and holes in the pathway, dug up here and there by Poopsy the night before. She leapt over a particularly sizeable pocket of open earth, concealed by a blanket of forest debris, and slowed her race to a jog, and finally stood still. Catching her breath, she waited for the thunderous rampage of Bertha to make its way to her.. And was thrilled when she heard her foe crash and sputter curses within the small pit. Truth be told, it was not deep at all, but was enough to throw Bertha off her feet into the shallow hole.

Poopsy was then quick to act. She leapt upon Bertha, nails tearing at the larger girl's hair, eyes, and skin. She was soon rolling in the dirt with the guerrilla of a girl. Fists landed in soft flesh with each resounding blow. Poopsy could taste blood on her tongue, though she could not say for sure if it was her own. At least once, she could remember in the red haze of her attack, sinking her teeth into Bertha's arm. Poopsy eventually found herself flung from Bertha, who looked the worse for wear out of the two. It would be then that Poopsy would take hold of her only weapon. She tore the lining from her bag (which thankfully had stayed slung across her chest and under her arm or would have been lost in the fray), slicing her finger upon the sharpened metal as she plucked it from its resting place.

The pain did not register with her however, Bertha had located some sizeable rocks and had already begun to hurl them at Poopsy before she had unsheathed the small blade. One rock collided with her shin, biting into her skin and shocked her senses back into place. Bertha was out for blood, and so was Poopsy. Later on she would vaguely recall someone screaming out her name, drawing nearer and nearer with frantic deportation. But at that moment, Poopsy had one thought on her mind. Kill or be killed. Rocks flew, the blade danced through the air, and both girls had suffered superficial injuries when that tragic moment would cement itself in Poopsy's mind forever.

She had slung back her arm to take another swing at Bertha, when she felt resistance from the blade. Stunned at the halt in her attack, she failed to witness the horror in Bertha's eyes. A gurgling moan would bubble up from behind her, and all color washed from her features as she turned to find a true terror behind her. Grub had been worried about his friend, but had not been able to find her. Knowing too well where Poopsy might be when she dd not want to be found, he had took off for their special hiding spot, the forgotten nature walk nestled in the cluster of trees just outside their neighborhood.

In his fevered fury to reach her before she could be hurt or do something to endanger herself or Bertha, he had not taken notice of the weapon in his friend's hand and had stepped right into the slashing swing, only to have the blade embedded within his throat. The force which had been placed upon the blade, had sunk it swiftly and caused it to stick firmly in the boy's neck. Warm blood flowed from the new wound and washed over a terrified Poopsy's hand. "No.." She hissed in a shaken breath, releasing the letter opener and stepping away from her helpless companion.

He tried to speak, as blood filled his mouth and lungs, but all he could manage was to choke and wheeze. He wanted so dearly to call out to his friend, but as light faded from his vision, and he slumped to his knees and then the forest floor, his final moments would be met with a horrified scream from Poopsy. She screamed at him to wake up, not to leave her, to forgive her.. Her hands upon his shirt collar, she shook him and pleaded for him to forgive her. Bertha however, dim witted as she may have been, knew it was best to run. And run she did. She hurried as quickly as her chubby legs would take her, but in fright, she did not go back the way she had came in her chase, but deeper into the wooded area.

Poopsy did not have long to lament over her friend's swift passing, for as she heard Bertha's frantic race to flee from the gory scene, Poopsy would pry the weapon loose from her only companion and would give a screech of rage. Bertha was to blame. Her parents were to blame. Her school was to blame. Everyone was to blame! Grub was dead, and it was all because everyone had to torment Grub and her. She tore through the forest with abandon, caring little for the way the pine needles stung her skin as she searched for Bertha. She would eventually find Bertha, scared and lost the forest. Poopsy made short work of her hated enemy. As she stood over the gurgling heap of ruined flesh, she felt an odd satisfaction. Killing Bertha would not ease the pain in her heart, the void that had been created with the passing of Grub, but the act had bred something new.. A need to ensure that everyone who was to blame, would meet a horrible fate.

Chapter one, end.


End file.
